The Notebook
by Captain Tungsten
Summary: A selection of ideas, in the form of story snippets that I may or may not ever continue, but wanted to post anyway.
1. Norse by Norse West

**Norse by Norse West**

Naruto shivered as the bitingly cold wind ran over his exposed skin. He was still in the same clothes he had worn when he had left Konoha, and clothes designed to keep him cool in those temperate climes were patently unsuitable for a thin six year old on the outskirts of Snow country.

Surrendering to the urge, he reached across and began to free the jacket from the stiff corpse on the other side of the cage. His cellmate had mouthed off one too many times and was beaten for his trouble. The wounds had eventually taken their toll a few hours ago, and Naruto had since battled with the urge to take what the dead man clearly no longer needed. His captors had never even noticed the death.

The decision to leave Konoha had been his own and, even now he couldn't truly regret it. Life in the hidden village had been unbearable - a thousand small miseries heaped on him out of the sight of the law, or anyone who would care. Someone _would_ notice if they did too much, so they kept it small - but a small but constant force can do every bit as much damage as a larger sudden one.

The slavers, for all their atrocities, only really saw him as cargo. It was only someone like Naruto, used to a very specific kind of abuse, who could take comfort in the fact that the men who had kidnapped him - to sell to the highest bidder on the black market of Glacier country - held no specific malice towards him.

He wrapped the dead mans coat around him and hunkered down, trying to expose as little of himself as possible to the biting wind. The cage-cart he was in was currently winding down a rough trail. The man driving it was hopelessly lost, having gotten separated from the rest of the slavers caravan during a snowstorm the day before. Naruto spent his time wondering whether he should hope the man found his way, so they would survive, or pray they both died.

The slavers had been very talkative during the first days - he knew typically the types of slavery available to be sold into. He also knew that as a child, his options were more limited than most. Either he would be sent into a life of hard labour, often to someone hoping to make a gladiator of him when he became old enough, or he would be sold as a sextoy to some rich pervert with a fetish for young boys.

The first option was fairly certain death. Even if he survived the labour, no one really survived as a gladiator. People watched gladiators to see people die, and the fights were rigged to put on the best show. Sooner or later your card would come up - later if you were a good enough showman, but still too soon.

The second option...didn't bear thinking about. _That_ at least had never been a danger in Konoha - people in a ninja village tended to stay pretty close to the letter of the law if they could get away with it.

The morbid thoughts chased away the worst of the chill, but failed to touch the deeper cold now sinking into his bones. He considered moving, but lacked the energy to do so. As darkness rose up around him, he felt his body slowly shutting down, going numb. He smiled faintly, the pain was going away...

NO! He was Uzumaki Naruto, dammit! He was the one who had once sworn to become the Hokage. He still intended to keep that promise. Even when he had left Konoha, he had only considered it a temporary event. He had always planned to return.

So here, now, he had no excuse for simply giving up. The weather might have been sapping his strength, but that was no excuse to let it sap his will.

Well no more! There was a fire inside him now, or was it ice? It warmed his body in a blaze of adrenalin, forcing his muscles to loosen and flex, heating him from his core. But the feel in his bones was still ice. It had become a part of him, the core of him as he was rebuilt in this spiritual rebirth. It was understandable he would have felt the heat of the fire first. Always before in this situation he would have been overcome with anger, screaming his fury to an uncaring world. Now the same anger ran though him, burning cold and dripping with acid hate.

He _hated_ the slavers. They had captured him, beat him, and starved him. That there was no malice in it made it worse. Even in Konoha, they had been wary. They might have feared him, but they had the tact to treat him as something to be feared. A monster. The slavers saw him as a thing. A commodity. A possession.

He was _nobody's_ possession.

Now it was just left to him to show that to the rest of them...

A shout of glee from the front of the cart brought him back to reality, and he turned to see what had happened. The idiot driving the cart was laughing as he pulled on the reins. He had found tracks of other carts - they were catching up to the caravan.

Naruto's lip curled in a savage grin that was completely out of place on a child his age, and wrapped his stolen jacket closer around his young body, curling up again on the floor of the cage. Soon, soon he would need all his strength...

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Not too far away from the caravan, was a small settlement. Not even large enough to call a village, it was merely a place where the fur trappers that worked in the area could use to store supplies and sleep without being disturbed by wild animals.

During the height of the hunting season, nearly a hundred trappers - often along with wives or family - would be present in the settlement.

Currently, it _was_ the height of the hunting season.

Following a snowstorm, and in the middle of the night, none of them were prepared to fight the Slavers when they came.

Further away from the settlement stood three huts, only just close enough to be seen. Their owners had chosen the location for its remoteness, and hadn't been pleased when they found out about the trappers claim to the land. The trappers, for their part had been more than happy not to bother the three hermits who so obviously didn't want to be bothered. As long as they weren't after fur, it wasn't any of their business anyway, and so they ignored it.

This suited both parties fine.

So when screams rent the air, powerful enough to overcome the muffling effect of the snow-covered landscape, the doors to three huts opened almost in unison, and three men stepped out, peering across the white plain to see what had gone wrong.

A moment passed, then two of the men, both large, blond men turned to the last, a lean, whipcord figure with blazingly red hair. His helmet sported a single lens dropping down over his left eye, and it was this that his companions watched. The red-head focused his gaze on the far-off settlement, lights blinking behind that lens for a moment, and spoke.

"Invaders. The ones who fight are slaughtered; the ones who surrender are put in chains." His fists clenched savagely for a second, nails almost drawing blood, then he was gone, the only clue to his passage being the line of footprints and the snow thrown up in his wake.

The remaining two were in motion within seconds of his departure. One, a muscular man with a large moustache, made prominent by his lack of beard, growled with rage as he moved.

"Slavers!" His left arm groped at his side, gripping hold of a short cylinder of metal. His right arm, a massive construction of jointed metal, shot out from his shoulder, extending back into his hut and withdrawing with a terrifyingly horned helmet that he rammed on his head.

His companion, a stout man with both beard and moustache, dashed into his own hut, returning likewise garbed in a helmet, although his was adorned by a pair of wings. Also with him was a round shield cast in metal and painted with stripes of blue. Though silent, he was no less active than his friend, raising fingers to his mouth and letting off a piercing whistle, before biting down hard on his fingers and scattering his blood on the ground.

Smoke obscured the air for a moment, and when it cleared a massive reptilian form was present. Jets of smoke issued from its nostrils and lips, and snow hissed to steam where it met his feet.

"Scorch, we need to get to the settlement fast. Erik's already there. It's Slavers, Scorch."

The dragon scanned the horizon briefly, draconian eyes seeing more clearly than even the visor used by their friend. He spoke.

"Hold on." The dragon lifted into the air with one flap of its mighty wings. The watching warriors barely had time to blink before they too were airborne, clutched in the rear talons of the reptile, not actually touching the heated skin of the dragon.

The dragon winged its way across the plain, skirting the outskirts of the forest that surrounded it. Below them, a shadow flitted from tree to tree, loping at a pace no normal human could sustain. The Shieldbearer, hanging from his draconian perch, let loose another piercing whistle, and the shadow broke forth into the plain proper, looking up at the sky to see them.

Away from the trees, the shadow's form was revealed. Standing nearly seven feet tall, it walked upright, but had the face structure and fur of a wolf, along with claws and ears to match. A tangled mane of blond hair hung around his shoulders and his eyes - while intelligent - belied a ferocity few humans could match.

Relying on the Wolf-man's keen hearing, the flying trio conveyed the situation to him. He signalled back in comprehension, and followed the dragon's flight path along the ground.

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Naruto was confused. The cart had met up with the rest of the caravan only hours ago, only to find it was nearly as lost as they were. One of the sentries had reported a settlement nearby, one without any active guards. It wasn't too surprising that such a remote place would go without guards, but it was going to be their downfall. Many of the captured slaves had suffered the same fate as his cellmate. The Slavers were going to take this opportunity to replenish their cargo and get directions at the same time.

It was a slaughter. Slavers had poured out from the tree line as dawn broke and raced into the camp, killing anything that put up a resistance. Naruto had been able to nothing to help them, and so was hoarding his strength for when he had a chance to use it. The battle was already running down, with everyone opposing either dead or in chains.

Suddenly there was a cut-off scream, and a sound like a wet sack tearing. Heads whipped round to find the source of the sound, but found only a corpse. One of their own, the former Slaver was nearly torn in two at the waist, the only clue to his assailant being a row of melting footprints in the snow. Following the footprints led to a flurry of snow, kicked up by a fast brake. As the snow cleared, the attacker came into view.

Standing six feet tall, and wearing cured hides and odd boots, the fearsome figure was breathing heavily. His hands held no weapon, but the bright blood glinting on the points of his horned helmet left no uncertainty about his favoured weapon. The Slavers were stunned into silence as the red droplets made their way down polished metal and mixed with similarly coloured hair. His breath came in little puffs of mist, as he straightened up, glaring around him in fury. He tensed, and before the Slavers could move, he was gone again.

Moments later, three Slavers went flying in different directions, struck at high speeds by a fist moving too fast to see. This was enough to shock the rest of their troupe into action, moving to fight an enemy they couldn't see. More of the men went flying, unconscious or dead.

The Slavers were still trying to rally to this foe, when two of their number suddenly burst into flame, in response to the fireball being shot from the sky. Turning to meet this new threat, they quailed at the sight of the draconian figure and his two passengers. Even as they watched, the stout man was released, lifting his shield above his head and gliding with it, until he was in position, then dropping like a stone boots first and crushing the head of the Slaver who broke his fall.

The beardless passenger fell too, though from a lower height. Moments before hitting the ground, his robotic right arm shot out, extending further than should be possible to grip onto an outlying strut of one of the buildings. Swinging to break his fall, he turned a neat flip in mid air as he let go, and landed heavily in the snow, instantly setting his feet for a fight. Slavers rushed him, but he met the first with a metal palm to the face while he was still out of range for attack. Squeezing with more than human strength, the skull shattered like a ripe fruit, and he flicked the body away contemptuously.

Seeing the rest of the Slavers scared to come close, he gripped the cylinder in his left hand tightly and focused his will upon it. With an electric _snap-hiss_, a blade of burning blue-white energy ignited before it, filling the air with the scent of ozone. Grinning fiercely, he charged the Slavers.

Some of the Slavers retreated towards the outskirts of the camp, trying to escape the carnage. Before they could leave, a clawed, furred hand reached out from the shadows and snapped their necks cleanly. The Wolf-man turned and entered the camp proper, quickly becoming a bloody whirlwind of tooth and claw as he carved a crimson path though the enemy. Some enemies got close enough to strike him, with blade or staff, only to fall back in horrified shock as he shrugged off the hits, healing the wounds instantly and turning to his attackers to claw out their throats.

Soon, the camp was in chaos, as a small army of Slavers fell one by one at the hands of their attackers. Some gathered together, and tried to send spears and arrows into their opponents, but failed as the stout man stepped forward and brushed off all the attacks with contemptuous ease, his shield not even scratched by it.

Soon the sounds of battle began to die out, as more and more of the Slaver laid dead or bleeding in the snow. Finally, the dragon perched on a rooftop, and the wolf-man crouched on a nearby beam.

The three men gathered together to face the last of the slavers, advancing on him menacingly. This slaver had been at the rear of the caravan, and had entered the settlement last. He had avoided the massacre more by luck than anything else, and now in the face of his doom he retreated.

Pulling his only weapon, a heavy double-bladed straight knife, he backed away from the advancing warriors, until his back met the bars of the cage-cart he had driven. The blood spattered murderers before him never slowed down, and it was all he could do to lift his blade to protect his body and head, and stammer out a plea for his life.

He was shocked to see the men stop, grinning in some dark amusement at his plight, and dared to hope that he might survive. Then he noticed the men weren't smiling at _him,_ but were rather looking _behind_ him. He had just time to register this when small hands reached through the bars and grabbed his wrist, before pulling back with all the childlike strength they could muster.

Naruto grinned savagely towards his saviours, as he leant back with his full weight, which was just enough to pull his captors arm back, letting the razor sharp edge of his own weapon pass through his throat. As the Slaver collapsed, gurgling on his own blood, Naruto too fell backwards as the last remnants of his strength ran out.

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The three warriors stared somewhat bemusedly at the unconscious boy and the Slaver corpse. It had been a beautifully executed kill - quick and brutal - made all the more impressive by the fact it was clearly done with the boy's last reserves of energy.

The redhead snorted and stepped forward, lifting a key chain from the corpse and using it on the cage, before lifting the boy out gently and turning to his friends.

"Clean up duty now. Free the slaves. Kill any surviving Slavers." He turned to call up to the dragon above him. "Scorch, take the boy, he needs warming up. Actually if you could start a big fire that would be great."

The wolf-man jumped down and spoke, "I'm gonna head off now. These people are still confused, they won't remember me in the morning, at least not enough to identify me to others, and that suits me fine. You know how to reach me if you need me." He turned and loped off into the distance.

A fireball from the dragon lit an abandoned cart to start a large fire, and he took Naruto to warm him with his draconian body heat. The others likewise went about their jobs.

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Naruto came to slowly, gradually shaking off the last of the darkness as he rose to consciousness. He became aware of people talking around him.

"...wake. I think he's awake. Can you hear me boy?" Naruto groaned a reply and forced open his eyes - an effort he felt deserved an award considering how he felt right then.

Concentration gave resolution to the blurred shapes around him, and he recognised them as his saviours of earlier. He gave a nod in response to the question, although he hadn't a clue who had asked.

The red-haired man smiled, "Good, you had us worried there for a while. Not too much though, anyone who can keep his wits about him to take out a Slaver the way you did isn't going to die from something so prosaic as frostbite."

Naruto furrowed his brow, as the memories from before returned to him. He remembered the hate, the fury, and the savage beauty in his first kill. He smiled up at the men. Belatedly, he remembered to introduce himself.

"I'm Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto, from Konoha in the Fire country. I ran away from home, the Slavers caught me. They were going to sell us in Glacier country. The rest..."

The man frowned, caught up in some memory, "Those who survived are fine. The ones that came with you, and those who used to live at the trapper camp. They salvaged what they could of the carts and abandoned the settlement. They're heading to the capital, and the embassies can sort out their problems later. I doubt anyone will come back to live at the camp. The dead..." he shrugged, "...we burnt the bodies. That's all we could do for them"

Naruto nodded, it had been more or less what he expected. Living in a ninja village, even civilians became somewhat inured to death. He spoke again.

"And me?"

"You boy, you were in bad shape. Doesn't look like you were eating well before - too skinny - and after... Your body was exhausted; you gave everything and then some. You just needed rest, so we kept you here in the warm. You've been sleeping for near a week now."

Naruto nodded again, turning his gaze to the other two occupants of the hut. They had looked up when he awoke, but otherwise had not acknowledged him. Currently, they were involved in some elaborate game involving both cards and dice.

He was about to speak again when the Door slammed open and a brown furred figure stepped in, closing the portal behind him.

"He's awake? Good, but he's not going anywhere soon. The snow's started up again and it's a big one. No one's going anywhere 'til it stops, and that won't be for a while...maybe weeks, or even months."

Naruto shut his mouth, and analysed the new figure carefully, taking in the fur and claws, and noting the glint of light of his teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the redhead taking stock of his reaction closely. He though briefly, then reworded the question he wanted to ask.

"Who _are_ you people?"

The redhead looked slightly taken aback, and the other two looked up from their game, before returning to it without comment. The newcomer snorted with laughter.

"He hasn't even gotten to _that_ yet?"

"Shut up, I was getting to it," The redhead was unembarrassed by his lapse. "This heap of fur we call Fang, and the two so immersed in that stupid game of theirs are Olaf and Baleog. Our last companion, not actually present at this instant, but who you may remember from the battle, is named Scorch. I go by Erik"

Naruto nodded again, committing the odd names to memory, but couldn't help but comment.

"You're not from around here are you?"

"You're not wrong," Erik laughed. "It's a long story, a true saga that any bard would be proud of, but the short of it is...we're lost."

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**6 years later**

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Naruto inked the final rune in his blood, and then stood up. He had just finished painting a runic array on the floor, over an area large enough to sit a good sized dragon, which was just what he hoped to do.

Over the last six years, he had ended up staying with his saviours, and learning from them. One of the things he had learnt was their past. Torn from their homes, from their worlds by a madman intent on making them into museum pieces, it more than explained their hatred of Slavers, and those who would imprison others with no reason.

They had fought their way free of that madman, although all suffered changes in the process. Flung from world to world, they had eventually ended up here, and despairing of a means to get home, they had found a place that seemed familiar and built themselves a new home.

Oh, they had searched at first. They had found a learned man from a nearby ninja village, the kind of person who delights in solving puzzles, and had set their situation to him as a hypothetical scenario. He had disappeared for days, muttering about 'reverse summoning', and 'world gates' and had returned with a solution.

They had rejoiced at first, but eventually realised the limitations of his solution. No human, even with the help of a dragon and a werewolf, could hope to supply the power necessary to carry it out, and so they had resigned themselves to living here.

Scorch had been the first problem. Unlike his homeworld, or any of the worlds they had visited up to this point, this one was different. They didn't know how or why, but this world was simply incapable of hosting the presence of a dragon for any length of time. The young dragon had faded out of existence in the third month of their stay, and would have remained so were it not for Fang.

As a werewolf, he was closer linked to the spirit world that any human could be, and it was to he spirit world where Scorch had been drawn. The Material plane on this world couldn't support such spiritual beings without a massive expenditure of energy. When that energy ran out, they faded back to the spirit world. They took this back to their 'idea man', and he introduced them to the concept of a summoning contract, which let them supply the energy needed to bring him to this plane.

Meanwhile, Scorch was training. He had discovered on his own that powerful spirits could supply the energy for the transition on their own, but he quickly realised that although this was true, it would take far more than he had to stay in the material plane indefinitely, like some demons could do.

They had been wary of the same thing happening to Fang, but it seemed he was human enough to survive here, if only just.

The summoning technique introduced them to the concept of chakra, and though it seemed more something a Soothsayer or Wise man would attempt, the three Vikings and Fang trained themselves in its use.

It was a good thing they did too, because less than a year after their arrival, all their technology failed. This was the second problem. The technology ran on power cells that were never intended for long term use, and the Vikings had no way to replace them. It was Baleog who first managed to direct his chakra through his mechanical limb, and move it again by using the chakra as a power source. The others were quick to follow in his example.

When Naruto had arrived, they had started training him more out of boredom than anything else. The snowstorm had kept them from moving for months, and training him kept the worst of the doldrums at bay.

Each had had something to teach the child and he had been eager to learn. Eventually, their story had come out, even to the point of showing him the notes the 'idea man' had made for them, along with the reasons it wouldn't work. Naruto had sworn that day to help them home, in thanks for their kindness towards him.

It was only in this last year that he had begun to realise how few limits there were to his chakra when he truly plumbed its depths, and it was Fang and Scorch, with connections to the spirit world, who had divined the reasons behind it, supplying him at the same time the reason why he had been hated and feared in Konoha so, a question that had nagged at him for years.

Though he hated the Kyuubi for what it had wrought on him, unintentionally or not, he was also thankful that it gave him the power with which he could return his friends to their rightful places.

He turned, seeing expectant, hopeful faces. His long braid smacked against his back - he had grown it in honour of Erik, whose lessons he had taken to best. He smiled.

"It's ready." Fang and Scorch had decided to follow the Vikings back to their world. Fang's world wasn't kind to people like him, but the Vikings had great respect for the Ulfsark, which is what they would take him for. Scorch was a purely spiritual entity, and so couldn't supply the 'coordinates' for the journey.

The Vikings stepped forward, Erik spoke.

"You don't know how much this means to us, boy. We've got some gifts, to say goodbye with. You'll start your own journey soon, and they'll suit you well." He reached up to his eye, and dismantled the lens from his helmet, along with the breathing apparatus, leaving it just a piece of armour. He handed the lens to Naruto, and followed it with a pair of boots sized to his feet. "Where we're going, this will only get questions asked.

Naruto looked at the boots. Erik's rocket boots had long since burned out, never really intended for use inside an atmosphere, or at non-zero gravity. Erik had been forced to adapt his chakra techniques to replicate their effect. Even without the rocket mechanisms, Erik had still worn the boots - the space age metal that made up the greater part of them was better armour than anything that could be bought on this world. He had dismantled the armour in order to fit it better to the good leather boots he now passed on to Naruto. They wouldn't do anything other than keep his feet warm and protected, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Besides, Naruto had learnt the same techniques as Erik; he needed no help in moving fast.

Olaf stepped forward, offering his shield.

"I always preferred my old wooden one, you know. So much lighter..."

Naruto took the shield solemnly. Regardless of what he said, the shield meant a lot to the stout man, and was a priceless gift, being as close to invulnerable as anything he had ever seen. It represented the man's wish that he remain healthy, well protected.

Baleog said nothing at first, merely flipping the polished cylinder of metal to Naruto. At Erik's nudge, he merely said "I'm keeping the arm, questions be damned. I'll cover it up if I have to."

Fang said nothing, and offered nothing more than a grip of his hand and a smile. Gift-giving was a human thing, and Naruto understood well the Wolf-man's more bestial nature, having a fragment of the same himself.

Scorch puffed smoke, and a few flickers of flame. It was a reminder of the time he had spent with Naruto, teaching him to do the same. He reached under one wing and pulled out a par of scrolls. Naruto had seen his own summoning contract enough times to know what they were. He looked up at the dragon curiously.

"This world," the dragon began, "it has no one like me, but there was one who was...close enough." A blush lit green scales a virulent red. "I haven't been alone all these years. The first scroll is the contract for my son, although he's just an egg at the moment. Give him a good name, Naruto. I'd take him with me but it wouldn't suit. I am uncomfortable in the spirit world, having been conceived, born and raised in the prime material plane. This one," he nosed the scroll lightly; "he would be uncomfortable living constantly in the material plane. That's just the way it is."

Naruto nodded, taking in what he had been told.

"And the other one...?"

"That's his mother. We're parting on good terms. She might help you, if you have a need, and if you petition her right. It will help if you take good care of my son; he'll be immature for a long time yet for her kind grows slower and larger than mine."

Naruto nodded, opening both scrolls and signing his name in blood quickly before he could heal.

"Does she have a name?" He wanted to make a good impression when he dealt with her. If she was anything like a dragon, she'd be proud...

"Nothing she calls herself, but some of the other spirits call her Gojira. I don't think she's incredibly fond of it, so don't call her that to her face, huh. You can still use it to call her by; just don't address her by it."

"Gojira, got it!" Naruto agreed. He eyed the sun, noting it was nearing midday. "Planetary alignments the best it's gonna be. I guess this is goodbye."

Erik nodded, "For now, at least. You know the drill, though. Live an honourable life. Die in glorious battle, and some day we'll meet in the halls of Valhalla. Until then, though..."

He stepped forward, coming to the centre of the runic array. The others followed him a moment later.

Naruto knelt by the side of the array, and dug his nails into his palms, letting the blood flow freely. He focused his chakra and slammed his palms over the edge of the array, pouring his chakra into it, and then reaching deeper still for the Kyuubi's.

He looked up into grinning faces and smiling eyes as the red chakra shrouded his vision, engulfing the array and those standing on it. He felt all his strength running out of him, and managed to hold on just long enough for the drain to end when he collapsed, knowing he had succeeded.

He awoke, hours later on the edge of a wide, shallow crater. It was as though a scoop had simply taken off the top few inches of rock. He smiled and returned to the huts.

He had packed beforehand, not planning on staying here longer now his friends were gone, but he took the time to sit down and assemble his gifts. He managed to fit the lens and breathing device to an old pair of goggles he had bought on one of his rare trips to the cities of Snow country. The boots went on his feet, and it was the work of moments to rig a holster for the metallic cylinder that was Baleog's energy sword, now his. The scrolls he meandered over for a while, before eventually sealing them as he had been taught into a tooth that had once belonged to Scorch. It hadn't faded back to the spirit world, and he still hoped to find out why someday.

He strung the dragon tooth on a leather thong, and as an afterthought added a pair of werewolf teeth - trophies from a sparring match with Fang - before stringing the whole lot around his throat and tying them there.

He pulled his pack over one shoulder and set the goggles on his head before leaving. When he was a good distance from the huts, he reared back and belched a mighty gout of flame at them, waiting to see them catch before turning again.

He pulled his goggles over his eyes, letting his chakra flare briefly and noting the display on the lens as he did so, telling him of the infrared heat source behind him. He smirked at the display and tapped his feet, getting used to the unfamiliar feel of the boots.

_'Look out Konoha, here comes Uzumaki Naruto!'_

He was off, leaving only the burning buildings and a trail of rapidly melting footprints as proof of his presence.


	2. Still waters run Deep

**Still Waters run Deep**

The Yondaime stood solemn at the bedside, waiting for a dying man to speak. While he waited he closely observed the young man, searching for some clue as to his origins.

The man in the bed was young, too young to be dying really, but it was all too common a sight in a village such as this. Standing up, he would have been only a few inches short of the Yondaime's own height and not dissimilar in other ways as well. The blue eyes and golden hair they both shared were rare in this part of the world. The Yondaime could name maybe ten people in a village of over a thousand with similar features. It only increased his curiosity about the young man - clearly he had travelled far.

There were differences between them though. The Hokage was older by several years, and his hair and skin showed his recent tendency to spend time indoors - a necessity when it came to the vast quantities of paperwork associated with his job. In contrast, the younger man had hair bleached from the sun and skin tanned to a dark, golden brown rarely seen this far to the east. It would have been more in place in wind country, with its blazing sun and endless deserts. Odd too were his eyes, slanted heavily on his face. It wasn't a look the Hokage was familiar with.

The young man had been found nearly a week ago, unconscious outside the gates of Konoha. He had been accompanied by a woman, clearly in the late stages of pregnancy. Both had been heavily wounded. Both smelt heavily of, among other things, the sea. They would never have been found if he hadn't increased the patrols around Konoha's perimeter - a wise precaution with rumours of the Kyuubi roaming Fire country. In the last week, the man had regained consciousness intermittently and asked to speak to whoever was in charge. The woman had yet to wake.

The young man coughed weakly as he raised himself to a sitting position with difficulty. The Yondaime focused on him again as he spoke.

"Thank you for coming to see me. You're the one they call 'Hokage', right?" His voice was weak, but he didn't stutter or falter. He spoke as clearly and as simply as he could. Yondaime tried and failed to place his accent.

"Yes, that's right. You wanted to speak with someone in charge, right? That's me." His tone was flippant, but the dying man looked past that, saw a genuine attempt to put him at ease and accepted gratefully. The Hokage's voice cooled as he went on, "I have to ask if you've brought trouble to my village though. We've taken a risk by bringing you inside our borders."

The young man smiled weakly and spoke, "I appreciate that. Don't worry, no one's following us. The people who did this to us are gone - trapped far away or dead. They're no danger to you in any case. And you don't have to worry about me," he looked down over his injured body, "very soon, I won't be any danger to anyone." His voice dropped slightly as he spoke again, clearly expecting the worst, "Where's Tula?"

"The woman we found with you?" The Hokage had no doubts as to who he meant, but he waited for the nod before continuing, having gathered his thoughts, "She had already slipped into a coma when we found you. She's alive, but we don't expect her to ever wake up." He waited for the tears to pass from the younger man's eyes before continuing, "Her child, though..."

"Yes?" The man's voice - weak though it was - was filled with tangible hope, and longing.

"The child is alive within her. A boy. My people can't explain it, but he seems in far better health than could be expected, given the circumstances." The Hokage was watching closely, and he saw relief cross the man's face, followed shortly by sorrow and resignation. He hadn't known about this beforehand, but he was utterly unsurprised by it. "He also can't be more than a week from being ready to be born. We were going to proceed with a caesarean section, unless one of you woke up and could give us a reason not to. There are dangers to your wife with the procedure, but it's the best chance of saving your son."

Sorrow and indecision warred on his face for long moments before they settled on resignation again and he spoke, "Do it. If it will save him, it's what she would want, and neither of us will survive much longer anyway. And she's not my wife -just Tula." He seemed to be searching for something to say, "My possessions?"

The Yondaime reached into a drawer on a small table set next to the bedside, drawing out a small sack that clinked as he set it down where the man could reach it. They had been confiscated when he was searched, prior to being admitted to the hospital, but he felt no restraint in returning them now. They were clearly valuable to the man, and in any case, a dying man with a broken sword would hardly pose a threat to an academy student, let alone the Hokage.

When the man reached into the sack and withdrew the sword, the Hokage suddenly wasn't so sure any more. His nature seemed to change in the moment he touched the golden hilt. He seemed to radiate an air of danger and nobility. It seemed strange to him, but another man might have commented on the similarity between the two men in that moment.

A few heartbeats passed, and the Hokage tensed, ready to defend at any moment, but relaxed as the younger man let the broken sword fall from his fingers.

"Can I have some paper, please?" The man kept his eyes lowered, "and a pen? I'll need to write a letter to my son. He'll need to know his history."

The Hokage retrieved a pen and paper from his ninja pouch - necessity had him carrying them around with him, now - and offered them to the man. He took them and began to write in a gentle, flowing script. Feeling useless, the Hokage asked if there was anything he could do. The man smiled and asked him to bring any of Tula's possessions that had been retrieved, and then to make labels for the items.

The Hokage did as asked, fetching another small sack from a different room, and setting a chair next to the bed so he could sit while he made labels. The talked quietly while they worked, with the young man asking about the systems in place to deal with orphans in the village, and the Hokage inquiring about the various items he was labelling.

The Hokage told him about the orphanages, about the academy, and the other options for those not suited for life as a ninja.

The young man in turn gave him the name of the items: The broken sword, a pendant he called compass that failed on any way to point north, some very odd clothes, a small figure of a monkey bird. The wooden flute he called the 'Wraith whistle' and whose purpose he would say no more about than 'to call the Wraith'.

In Tula's belongings there was not so much: A few oddly shaped knives, some even odder clothes and a pouchful of trinkets that ranged from small stones to seeds to jewellery.

By the time all the labels were done, the young man's voice had dropped even further, barely even a croak. His hands shook as he wrote. He finally signed the bottom of the last paper and turned his attention back to the first. He paused for a second, and turned to the Hokage.

"He'll need a name."

"Well how about..." The Hokage thought for a moment, but it was several hours since lunch and all he could think off was his favourite food. "Naruto."

"Naruto...that sounds good. What does it mean?"

The Hokage didn't want to admit the direction of his thoughts, and bluffed quickly, "It means Spiral, sort of. It refers to thing with that kind of shape. I was thinking of a Whirlpool, or Uzumaki. It seemed appropriate given you both seemed to be sailors of some description..."

The young man ignored the subtle hint asking for more information, "Naruto...yes, I like it." His voice was a mere wheeze now. "Do you think I could get a drink of water?"

The Hokage agreed, and hurried off to see about it. Once the young man was sure he was gone, he lifted the compass from the bag, label and all, and slung it round his neck by the cord. He gripped it tightly with his right hand and coughed a few times, trying to get his voice back under control. A faint glow appeared around both hand and compass, growing softly until he spoke.

"My son. The circle is now complete. I wish I had had more time with you, but it seems it is not to be. It seems a cruel destiny that I must abandon you to your fate in a strange place, even as my father did the same to me. But my father eventually returned, to pass on my birthright and send me on my quest. There will be no return for me, and I cannot say how sorry about that I am. For that reason, I leave this message, and the letter and items you have just received.

The Sword is part of your birthright. The Compass will lead you to the rest, and the Wraithwhistle will help you get to them. Listen closely for this is your destiny."

He broke off for a moment, closing his eyes and concentrating on an image, bringing it to the forefront of his mind. A magnificent crystalline palace set in an equally wondrous city. "You see Octopon reborn, you see your destiny. Only you can restore...our city...back to its former glory and in so doing...save Mer!" His voice was beginning to fail him again, so he spoke quickly, wanting to be done before his host returned. He brought another image to his mind - a beautiful young brunette with green eyes, dressed in pink clothes and with a wicked knife in hand and matching grin.

"This is your mother, Tula. She is an ecomancer, and you may have inherited her talents. It is those talents that saved your life, as she transferred the last of her own life energies to ensure your survival. Never doubt our love for you, and be sure to live well."

Other images ran quickly through his mind "These are friends, allies, people you can trust." More still "These are enemies, most destroyed or sealed away, but some may yet survive." One last image, "This is the Dark water. Most of it was sealed away to the farthest depths, but some remains, and in time will spread. The only items able to counteract its taint are the treasures of rule. I had retrieved many once, but I was forced to scatter them again to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. Your Compass will show you where you need to go."

"His voice was nearly gone now, and he spoke one last time "I wish I had had more time with you, my son. Your mother would feel the same. I feel that one day we shall meet again...on the farthest sea. Remember always my last words to you Naruto, Son of Ren, Son of Primus, Prince of Octopon: 'Always the Quest!'".

With shaking hands, he replaced the compass in the bag, and addressed the letter. The outer envelope simply said 'Naruto'. He turned in his bed to face the Hokage, noting with some amusement the glass of water in his hand and gestured weakly towards the package.

"Give it to him...when he's old enough to understand. Give it to...my son." He waited for the nod before relaxing, letting his eyes drift closed for the last time.

_"I'll see you soon...Tula."_

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The Hokage had taken more time with the water than he had expected, having been interrupted by a pair of really cute nurses. He arrived back at the patient's room, only to hear him talking through the door.

"...Naruto, Son of Ren, Son of ... of Octo...: '... the Quest!'".

He entered the room to see the man looking even more worn out than before, sealing the envelope with the letter he had written. He turned to see the Hokage, and spoke, voice matching his appearance:

"Give it to him...when he's old enough to understand. Give it to...my son."

The Hokage nodded solemnly to the request, and watched in silence as the man's eyes closed for the last time. Keen ears picked up his final word:

"...Tula."

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A week later, the Hokage was in his office, waiting on news from a scout. He was looking at the latest piece if paperwork in his pile, the one that described the successful caesarean section on one Jane Doe, and the healthy baby - formally named Uzumaki Naruto - resulting from it. The report went on to say how the mothers body had failed and died within minutes after the child was safe, despite all attempts to revive.

He signed the sheet, and sent a glance to a safe in his wall where a certain package was awaiting its owner. He was about to move onto his next report when the scout he had been waiting for burst into the room, panting.

"The Kyuubi...we were right...It's heading this way."

The rest, as they say, is history.


	3. By the Eye of Naruto?

**By the Eye of...Naruto?**

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Once, in times long past, beings of great strength and wisdom walked this world, battling evil and making a home for themselves. Over the generations, they interbred with the warlike natives, and passed some skill and power onto their descendants.

Over the years, the old blood has thinned, and the only powers remaining in the descendants are uncommonly keen senses and strength and agility beyond the scope of most humans.

Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say descendants? I meant descendant. Just one remains, that we know of. The last since the death of his mother.

The great weapons perhaps could wake the last remnant of the great blood within him, pulling instincts and skills to the fore. Skills not seen in eons.

But the great weapons are sealed. Sealed by the last of the pure-blooded, and sealed further than any mere human chakra could hope to reach.

But the last son of a once great race is no mere human, and what he contains is greater still. A lesser being would suffer incendiary death trying to channel it as he did, but by simple fluke - or the touch of destiny - the great weapons have returned to the embrace of their last Heir, along with the Guardian that guards them.

Learning of his past and dreaming of his future, he dares to hope that he is not alone. That there is another out there like him, or others. Brothers and sisters, scattered cruelly by fate and lost, never knowing of the family ties they share.

Hope rising in our young hero's heart, he walks to the highest point he can reach, accompanied by the Guardian and burdened by one very special weapon, and the gauntlet that is his only hope of wielding it correctly.

He lifts it awkwardly, childish limbs displaying better than average strength, until the short sword is before his face. The blade lies above his head, but the bridge of his nose is level with the handguard.

He looks down briefly, eyes crossing as he takes in the noble symbol of a once great people. _His_ people. It gives him strength, and he grips the hilt with renewed determination, fixing his gaze on the horizon beyond his sword. He takes a breath, slowly, and then speaks.

"Sword of Omens, give me sight beyond sight."

For a moment, there is nothing. Then the sword shudders, waking from its eons long slumber, reacting to the powers contained in the boy, and filtered through the gauntlet that covers his arm nearly to the elbow, too big for a child but fitting snugly all the same.

He can make out the red glow of the Eye in his peripheral vision, but dares not move his own eyes to see the changes he has wrought. The crossguard grows suddenly, in a slow and disturbingly organic fashion, until it curves around each eye. Anyone watching would be shocked to see them glimmer golden, catlike.

As soon as the growth stops, he is aware of it. Aware of everything rather, as his vision expands beyond his comprehension. Soon, calling it merely vision is inaccurate. Better to say it is an innate knowledge of realms and places far beyond the scope of his more mundane senses. It is not long before he finds what he is searching for.

A light, burning deep within the depths of his mind. It is an echo of sorts, and he knows instinctively that its origin is in the real world, to the south of his current location. How far to the south he cannot tell, but any disappointment he might have felt is soon washed away in the sheer joy of finding someone like him. Finding family.

Another light burns, and another. More.

The lights are all different. The first he sensed burned in his mind with the brilliance of the sun, the others are mere candle flames in comparison, and he knows that those flames mean their owners are much further descended. Their blood diluted so much further. Most, he can tell, could never be distinguished from humans by any method other thane used now. The stronger of those might be mistaken for carrying some weak blood limit. He smiles as he realises that, in a way, they do.

But they exist. Family. For him and for each other. He knew, and had always known he was different, even before he knew why. Other, he thought, probably felt the same. He wondered briefly how dilute the blood would have to become, before you would feel like a human entirely. Before you could believe you were one, even when people - family, friends, doctors - insisted you were.

Not that he had ever had any of that.

He lowered the sword from his eyes, and staggered as his mundane senses reasserted themselves. He took a moment to gain his balance, a feat that had come easier since coming into his birthright, and turned to meet the eyes of the Guardian.

"They're out there. They exist."

The Guardian smiled, although a human would probably fail to recognise it as such, and reached forward, offering the contents of his paw to his lord.

Naruto reached forward, picking up a slender disc, and examining it briefly, noting the same design as appeared sometimes in the crystal on the hilt of his sword. He smiled, and pulled a length of cloth from his pocket.

"Like this, Right?"

He held the disc to the cloth, and was gratified to see it adhere to the cloth as though made for it. He lifted the cloth to his brow, and tied it tightly behind his head, binding back the mass of blonde hair - recently streaked with a red colour reminiscent of fire - and setting the disc proud above his eyes.

He looked over at the Guardian in obvious pride, and was content to rest there for a moment, among the carved stone locks of this village's hero, and breathe. Just letting the experiences settle in his mind.

After a time, he moved again, considering the sword still gripped in his hand curiously. The handguard had retreated back to its original form, and the Eye was unlit once more. He seemed to come to some decision, and looked at his companion briefly before returning his gaze to the sword. He lifted it in front of himself again, and spoke.

"They're out there. Alone. Like I was." He gripped the sword tighter, bringing it up and letting the flat rest against the disc at his brow. "They'll feel this. Then they'll know they're not alone."

Bringing the sword to his eyes again, it was the work of moments to grow the crossguard again, letting the power of the Eye glimmer briefly in his own.

He lifted the sword above his head and took a breath. It was no small thing he did now. Perhaps some of his family would retain their discs, heirlooms and relics. Those that did would feel this, as the discs glowed and pounded against their trappings, alerting any nearby. Even those without discs would feel it, a dull throbbing in their bones, and a fire in their blood that called to them. Called them home.

He spoke.

**"Thunder"**

The sword shook in his arms, as he lifted it above his head. His arms nearly buckled in surprise when it sprouted a few extra inches in length.

**"Thunder"**

This time he was ready as the sword grew again, but his arms still shook. As it grew, the sword seemed to gain a weight associated to it that had nothing to do with its material mass.

**"Thunder"**

The weight on his arms was moderate now, as what had been little more than a dagger had grown into a full sized longsword. The weight on his spirit was more immense, but he pushed harder, raising it to the sky. The Eye of Thundara on the crossguard had been opening with each growth of the sword, and now was pulsing dangerously.

**"Thundercats"**

The Eye of Thundara snaps open fully at this cry, revealing the same symbol as is on his disc, the roaring profile of a great cat. Lightning crackles over the surface of the sword, and the weight is released suddenly, as the swords power rushes through him. He opens his mouth and breath floods his lungs.

**"HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"**

With this last wild cry, the Eye of Thundara lights up one last time, more brilliantly than the eye can stand, projecting upwards across the sky, sending out a clear signal to all those capable of receiving it, filling them with a strength and fire that has been sorely missing these last few eons.

After a few seconds, the light dies away, and Naruto lowers the sword, riding the edges of his natural high. He breathes deeply and turns to the Guardian.

"You got a name, anyway?"

The Guardian jerks as if shocked, all its attention having been on the signal just sent out. He shifts a bandoleer across his shoulders. This contains the remaining great weapons and is guarded fiercely. For the first time, he speaks.

"They call me...The Snarf. _(Snarf)_"

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	4. Perverted and Proud of it?

**Perverted and Proud of it?**

This is a scene from a fic I'm working on.

The setup is:

Naruto steals all the pornography in the village and uses it to build a four story papier mache volcano, which he then fuels by appropriating the entire village stock of vinegar and baking powder, along with some judiciously applied red food colouring.

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Naruto set the small folding table up in the middle of the square and positioned a deck chair behind it before leaping lightly to stand on top of it and address the gathering crowd.

"People of Konoha. I stand here among you today to say sorry. I deeply, truly and sincerely apologize for what I did."

The first few rows of the crowd were amazed to see tears gather in the corners of the passionate young mans eyes.

"I realise now that it was wrong of me to steal all of your pornography and turn it into a four story tribute to the will of fire."

There was some muttering now, mainly from the women and prudish men in the crowd - _they_ didn't think what he had done was so bad.

"I've been thinking about it all night, and I've realised that the least I can do - the only _honourable_ thing to do - is to make reparations. To repay you, all of you, for the losses you have taken during this regrettable event."

There was a general murmur around the perverts in the crowd now. This was beginning to sound pretty good. Obviously money wouldn't solve all the problems, but it would help make things right again. This Naruto kid was alright - if he stuck to his word that was.

"Obviously I cannot hope to match the sentimental value of the items I stole and destroyed, but I hope you will all accept my reimbursement of their monetary value as at least some small measure of my sincerity... However this does raise some problems."

The murmur rose to a gentle roar; was the kid trying to weasel out of his deal.

"I cannot possible hope to remember by name or face all the people I now owe reimbursement to, meaning I would have no way of identifying those taking advantage of my apology to scam a little money for themselves. Thus I feel it is only fair that you come to me with both proof of identity and proof of purchase of the items you claim repayment for."

The roar grew louder. Did this brat expect them to have kept the receipts for pornography that had been bought, in some cases, years ago? What if they had already disposed of such things? This was clearly just his way of avoiding paying them.

"People of Konoha, don't worry. Even if you have lost or disposed of the evidence I require, getting more should be no problem. It is my understanding that all merchants and businessmen in Konoha are required by law to keep meticulous records of all customer transactions. All you should have to do is identify yourselves to them and they will give you a copy of the invoice for your purchase. Then you can bring that to me and be reimbursed. See, no problem" He chuckled gently.

The roar grew again, but it was more cheerful this time. The perverts had a way to regain all they money, and were happy.

The sounds coming from the women were, in general, considerably less cheerful.

Naruto's easy smile passed over them all in turn, prudes and women and perverts alike. Only a few people could have recognised the ever so slightly sinister turn to his lip, and the glint in his eyes. He flopped backwards into the chair he had set up before, kicking his feet up to rest on the table and leaning back, shading his eyes from the morning sun streaming into the most public area of Konoha. His eyes flicked over the perverts again and his grin widened further.

"I'll be here all day."

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So the perverts can't get their money back without being exposed as perverts. The women are all secretly (and not so secretly) supportive of his actions, and thanks to his apparent generosity, Naruto still comes out of this smelling, if not like roses, then at least like something by another name that smells as sweet.


	5. Showtime

**Showtime**

This is set in an AU where Naruto was never allowed to enter the academy. He had been preparing for it for over a year before he should have entered, learning from very basic scrolls and textbooks the Hokage gave him, but the Council vetoed it days before he should have been admitted.

Somewhat lost now his purpose has been stolen, he wanders Konoha, taking odd jobs (Council has cut off his allowance, and the Hokage can only slip him so much) from anyone he can find who doesn't hate him, and practises what little he knows of chakra and jutsu constantly, as a way of keeping his dream somewhat alive. From time to time, he'll manage to coax one of his bosses (often former shinobi) to teach him new jutsu.

The Hokage is worried about him and allows this, but eventually stops watching when it appears Naruto has gained a new purpose, learning Mechanics and engineering from several mechanics and engineers living in Konoha's warehouse district. Naruto drops off his radar anyway, though he keeps tabs on him enough to know that he rents a warehouse and spends a lot of time on the Hokage monument.

Graduation takes place normally, with the exception of an OC in Naruto's place on Team 7, and things proceed as normal. If you wanted, there could be a scene where Naruto is called in as a consultant for the bridge in wave country (would be an excuse for Tazuna to have travelled to Konoha) so it still ends up as the great Naruto Bridge.

Big things start to happen in the chuunin exams. The following scene takes place at the Sand/Sound Invasion.

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Naruto was inside an engine. That's what any other mechanic might have said, watching them. Any other mechanic would probably not have noticed the elaborate seals that wound their way seamlessly through the rock wall and steel innards of this room. Any other mechanic would probably have paid no heed to the subsonic hum of active chakra that pervaded the entire structure and shook its inhabitant to his bones.

He was lying down, back arched slightly as he lifted himself up to do essential maintenance on the awesome structure above him. His orange overalls and face were streaked unevenly with machine oil, and a wrench was in his hand, applying steady pressure to a loose nut somewhere above his prone figure.

The wail that cut through the room startled him, causing him to twist his finger cruelly in an awkward movement, and giving rise to a stream of muttered curses as the boy nursed his injury.

Sliding out from his position, he left the room through a crawlhole set into the wall, and made his way upwards. Soon he came to a steel plate barring his way. Lifting one sleeve to reveal a gleaming watch that seemed out of place with his oil-streaked appearance, he muttered briefly into its face, before pressing on the steel plate and sliding it open easily, to a previously invisible seam in the wall.

Climbing through the hole, he emerged in a small room set with a number of screens and one large chair. He heard the whoosh of the door closing behind him, but paid it no mind, flipping a switch on a console in front of him, and flopping back into the chair. He felt soft leather mould around him, and relaxed, uncaring of his filthy state.

One of the screens in front of him lit up, showing an oblique angle view of Konoha. The wail that still rang in his ears was the Konoha Emergency Alarm, telling civilians to go to the designated shelters, and telling ninja's to fight for their village. It hadn't been sounded in his lifetime before. He knew from books and conversations that it was last sounded on the arrival of the Kyyubi no Kitsune, days before his birth. The video screen in front of him showed him the cause.

Hundreds of enemy shinobi ran through the streets, slaughtering mercilessly. Fires burnt in the civilian and shinobi sectors alike, though the warehouse district was as yet untouched. Giant snakes slithered rampant through the streets, causing massive property damage and no end of trouble for the defending leaf Nins.

Naruto sat back in his chair, amazed at the sight. After a moment, his eye caught the sight of a massive barrier of purple flame in the chuunin arena. Focusing the camera on that place, he was shocked to see, dimly through the flame, the Hokage fighting for his life against what appeared to be two of the previous Hokage and a long haired woman...and _losing_.

His gaze hardened and he reached across to strap himself into the chair. His hands rested on the armrests, and a small flame of chakra flared at his fingertips. Moments later, the back of his chair opened up and curved rails with various consoles and controls attached shot out, stopping in front of him at just below chest height. He hesitated for a second as he reached forward, wondering if his creation was ready for this, then took hold of them anyway.

Instantly feeling the drain upon his chakra, he followed its path in his mind briefly, feeling it rush through elaborate seal-circuitry to the engine room he had just vacated and hoped he had fixed it correctly. Bringing his mind back to the present, he gripped the controls harder and pulled. Other screens in front of him began to turn on. Most gave in some manner a similar view to the first, but a few filled with odd screens full of figures and diagrams. Naruto swept his eyes over them quickly, finding the useful information and filtering out the rest until he needed it.

Turning his eyes to the first screen again, he smiled

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Konoha citizens and invaders alike looked up in shock as the roar split the air, drowning out even the Alarm. Those veterans old enough to remember the Iwa war recognised something in the roar as the shriek of rock and metal forced beyond normal limits, stressed to breaking point and beyond. As one, the combatants turned to find the source of the sound, each preparing themselves for the inevitable enemy attack they were sure was coming.

Turning, they found themselves looking at the Hokage monument, and more specifically to the massive visage of the fourth Hokage. Konoha nins were at a loss immediately to identify what seemed wrong with that image, but yells rang out when they realised that it had never before sported such blue eyes. Its stone flesh, also, moved in ways simple rock should surely be unable of doing - those present for the chuunin exams later described it as similar to Gaara's armour of sand.

As they watched, frozen, the massive bust seemed to vibrate, small chips of rock falling away from it as it seemed to become separate from the rest of the mountain. Veteran shinobi registered the change in pitch of the roar, and moved seconds before the front of the mountain exploded. Dust filled the air.

As the dust finally began to clear, everyone was looking at its source, even the battling Hokages and their attacker behind the flame barrier. Several Suna shinobi sent wind blasts to clear it quicker. Finally it was visible, and breaths caught in throat all over as they saw what it was. From somewhere not too far distant from the battered arena, there was shriek of anticipation from a massive Tanuki, formed apparently entirely from sand.

It was the Yondaime. But not as they might have known him. Standing taller than his famous Summon ever had (a summon who had recently been called near the bathhouse and was watching in amazement), this Yondaime could have faced off against Kyuubi as an equal, or that was how it seemed to the watchers. His flesh was the same tan stone of the mountain, save for his eyes, which were deep, blue, glassy monitors. His flesh wasn't complete, being cracked in several places, and those with keen eyes could make out the steel innards and smoking, sparking entrails of the massive Hokage.

Inside, a blonde was grinning manically as he moved levers and dials in patterns that made sense only to him.

Outside, the stunned watchers were shocked to see the thing move further, both arms lifting to shoulder height with a scream of tortured metal, spewing out steam in massive gouts from the cracks in the joints. The astute noticed how its legs shifted slightly as well to maintain its balance.

Thumbs rose from clenched fists with another hydraulic groan, and stone lips parted to reveal a shimmering array of steel teeth. (The massive facevault at this display of metal mandibles was interrupted by a far off scream - something about fires of youth.)

Moving faster now, as though it was getting used to the motions, it stepped forward in the direction of the arena, crushing a small fruit stand in the process (belonging to a man who had always refused to sell to 'that demon brat' - probably just a coincidence) and cocked one arm back. At the peak of the arms movement, a massive piston burst out behind the elbow, shattering the rock covering as it did so.

Hundreds of ninjas watched in awe as the massive construct threw its fist forward towards the flame barrier behind which the sound four were now cowering. The fist met flame with a sound like the ringing of a gong, and for a moment, as it sat there with the stone covering its fist beginning to smoke, most were sure the barrier would hold - that the attack would fail to penetrate.

Then the piston slammed down.

The shockwave that followed smashed through the barrier like a civilian might tear paper. The wave of air pressure in the wake of the collapsing barrier buffeted those standing behind it, instantly knocking out the sound four.

Even the dead Hokages paused in there attack as they were nearly rocketed backwards. Sandaime had managed to raise a defence of roof tiles, though it had shattered to protect him.

Orochimaru had a strange mix of fear, shock and loathing on his face, as he stared up into the massive, grinning, visage of the one man he had never been able to defeat.

Somewhere, Kyuubi screamed himself hoarse over the indignity of being used to power a device in the form of his conqueror.

Naruto grinned. Ask anyone who had just watched the astounding chain of events, and they would have told you just how familiar that grin was.

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So there it is - A Naruto/Giant Robot story, with heavy Big O influences


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